It all began with the sound of a single rain drop falling on the top of my tent.
Then: splat, splat a minute later. Splat-splat. Splat-splat-splat.
And the rain began. I figure I’m good; I’m in a tent. This tent survived a torential monsoon one time in Port Clinton. All is good.
Wrong. An hour later, I feel water splat-splatting on my nose. And another. And I realize my mattress is wet at one corner. I get out my flash light and I note that there is a very large puddle in my tent. Stuff is getting wet. I realize that evacuation is necessary. In two trips, I move the contents of my tent to the high school and sleep in the hall.
That is how my day began… My ride started in the rain and lasted 60 miles of the 73. Through steep uphills and downhills, yielding wet squeaky brakes.
All I can say is that I survived, whining aloud and in my head. I hate rain The Peppermint ice cream at Velvet Ice Cream helped only temporarily at mile 32. Chilled me before we started climbing again.
Legs tired. Pride scarred on the one hill I walked and shouldn’t have–Blacksnake Road. But I am still in the game. Though I’m stuck in the community gym.
Tomorrow: 69 miles to Copley. Anyone want to pick us up and take us to Wolf Creek? Dis girl hasn’t had a decent wine all week. Mostly cheap beer. =(
At least go to my house and bring me my other tent? No? Hmmph.